


Confide in a Friend

by skywalka



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Angst, Ben Hanscom is a Good Friend, Coming Out, Fix-It, Gay Richie Tozier, Love Confessions, M/M, Richie Tozier is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 00:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalka/pseuds/skywalka
Summary: Richie sighed, ‘And I just cried, Ben. I sat there, on that fuckin park bench and cried. Worst day of my fuckin life, I’ll tell ya.’A fix-it of sorts. In which Richie tells Ben his 'dirty little secret'.





	1. the token

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first fanfic in this fandom, and ngl i'm actually very excited. it's fairly short, but i'm just getting started lmao. ok enjoy the story! bye <3

Richie stormed through the Derry Inn, pausing for no questions. He claimed _I’m fine _before quickly retreating to his room. Ben and Beverly shared a look.

‘I’m gonna go check on Richie,’ Ben told Beverly. She nodded, and ushered Ben off to Richie’s room. Ben stepped up the stairs, skipping every second one, watching the patterned carpet become a blur below him. He turned the corner and headed towards the only room with a soft glow pushing from underneath the door. Ben softly tapped his knuckles against the wood and gently said,

‘Rich? It’s Ben. Can I come in?’

There was a few moments silence. The door creaked slightly, which gave the impression that Richie was previously sitting against the door, and had now moved. Ben took that as his cue to enter. The first thing Ben noticed was how tidy the room was. For as long as Ben has known Richie, his room was never clean. Even when Richie slept over at the Losers’ houses, he always had at least one or two belongings thrown across the room. It was almost like Richie’d never unpacked at all. It was like

‘I’m not staying here,’ Richie announced, ‘I’m going back home. I’m leaving this shit-hole.’

‘Richie, you’ve gotta stay, man. We all need to sta-’

'No. Absolutely fucking not, Ben. I'm not staying any longer in this shitty ass town. I left this place for a reason, and it was a mistake to come back.' 

'Richie, just listen to m-' pleaded Ben.

'No! You listen to _me, _buddy. Yesterday I remembered that a mother-fuckin killer _clown _tried to eat us when we were teenagers. Right here, in Derry.' Richie waved his arms around to prove his point. 'And I _thought_ that we killed the fuckin thing. And then my good ol' pal Mikey calls and says that actually, the thing's still alive, and is ready to feast. What the _fuck_, dude?'

Richie laughed incredulously, shaking his head. ‘Oh! I _also _forgot to mention the fact that I just found out that my childhood best friend slit his fucking wrists in the tub.’ He exclaimed. Rich’s tone dropped lower, and he said, ‘Nope. Forget it. I’m outta here. There’s too many...’

Richie trailed off.

‘Too many what, Richie?’

Rich shook his head. He threw what looked like a bottle of cologne in his bag and zipped it up. He wanted to leave Derry. _No, fuck that. I’m _going _to leave Derry. I’m gonna leave this shitty town with its shitty roads and its shitty houses and its shitty citizens and its shitty killer clown and I’m going to leave and never fucking come back. _Richie didn’t care about the Losers. He’d already forgotten them all before anyways. Who’s to say he won’t just forget them again. _Eddie Eddie Eddie what about Eddie don’t forget about Eddie_-

‘Rich?’ Ben interrupted, ‘Richie, there’s something you’re not telling me. Please, just talk to me. Talk to _us. _ We’re all here for you.’

Deafening silence. And then,

‘Bad memories.’ Richie said.

‘Huh?’

‘Too many bad memories.’ clarified Richie. ‘We all had to get our tokens, right? Well, turns out my token was… a literal token. From the arcade in Capitol Theatre. I used to play Street Fighter there, on the weekends. I could only play a couple games, cause of the amount of money I had, but I still held the high-score.’

Intrigued and not wanting to disrupt Richie, Ben quietly sat down on the lounge chair next to the bed. He watched Rich as he recounted his childhood memories.

‘You remember Henry Bowers?’ Richie questioned. Ben knew it was most likely relevant to Richie’s story somehow, but memories of fear and hatred bubbled up in his stomach. Ben’s hand involuntarily reached for the right side of his stomach, where Bowers had carved his initial twenty-seven years ago. Ben nodded, and Richie continued.

‘Yeah, well, I ended up playing against this fuckin douche’s cousin in Street Fighter. We had one token left, and this kid said he needed to go. Didn’t want him to leave, though. So I asked this kid, who mind you, I don’t know his name, whether he wanted to play again. Then Henry fuckin Bowers turns the corner. One thing leads to another and Bowers calls me a faggot for trying to ‘bone his little cousin’. I ran outta that arcade faster than Billy’s stupid bike. Bowers and his gang chase me all the way to the park, call me a faggot a couple more times, throw a couple stones at me and then leave.’

Richie sighed, ‘And I just cried, Ben. I sat there, on that fuckin park bench and cried. Worst day of my fuckin life, I’ll tell ya.’

Rich looked up from his hands, confronted with a very confused Ben, who squinted his eyes.

‘I don’t get it, Rich,’ Ben replied, ‘Why’d it get to you so much? They called pretty everyone who breathed a faggot. Not like you thought it was true, or anything, right?’

_Stupid stupid _stupid _Richie, _he thought. _Of course Ben wouldn’t understand. No one understands, no one understands, Ben doesn’t_

‘…fucking understand! It _is _true. All of it! I’m a fucking faggot, okay? I’m gay and it’s disgusting and I’m leaving because none of you needed to know! _FUCK!’_

The room was silent. Richie picked up his bag, and left an astounded Ben to himself. 


	2. nothing's gonna change

_Stupid Richie stupid idiot why the fuck would you tell Ben now he’s gonna tell all the Losers and they’re gonna tell their friends who will tell their friends and it’ll get out that Richie Tozier is gay and all his jokes about jacking off to women were all cover-ups for his big secret and oh God what if Ed- _

Footsteps behind Richie disrupted his chain of relentless thoughts, slightly relieving Richie of some anxiety, although also adding some, with questions like _who is following me _and _what do they want_. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Richie dropped his bag at his feet and patted his pant pockets until his found his car keys. Although she looked nice, the inside of the car wasn’t doing too great. Mostly due to the amount of days Richie had drunkenly slept in her with the lights still on, her engine spluttered and wheezed when he started her up, and a strange thumping noise could be faintly heard when you turned right.

Despite all this, Richie’s car got him to Derry, and she could just as easily get him out. Which Richie had planned to _eventually _happen, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. It’s not like Richie wanted to leave so fast. But he couldn’t stay here knowing that the entirety of the Losers Club knew his

_…dirty little secret! I know your secret, your _dirty _little secret. Should I tell them, Richie?_

Richie dropped his keys. He bent down to pick them up, knees knocking and legs trembling. Everything seemed to blur together. _Stupid prescription glasses. _He took them off and gave them a wipe of the hem of his shirt. Placing them back on the bridge of his nose, he could now focus clearly on the pair of shoes right on top of where his keys were supposed to be. He followed the shoes up to some legs, to a body and to a face, all of which belonged to none other than Ben Hanscom. The last person Richie wanted to see right now, but also the person who happened to be holding the literal key to his escape from Derry forever.

‘Ben, just let me go, man. I don’t want to hear another dumb lecture on how being gay is dirty and wrong, and how it was Adam and Eve not Adam and-’

‘Richie, I don’t care that you’re gay.’

‘-Steve. You what?’

‘I don’t care that you’re gay, man. Where you wanna stick your dick has no effect on our relationship. All the Losers love you. That’s not gonna change just because your dick responds to – _oomph!’_

Now, to any bystander, this would’ve just been a simple bear-hug between two friends. Possibly reuniting, or sharing wonderful news. This wasn’t a simple hug though. For years, Richie fought this secret, denying all the proof that clearly showed he wasn’t like everyone else. And to hear someone say that it’s okay, and that they loved him? It meant more than Richie could say.

‘Thanks, Ben. That means… so much. But could you please stop talking about my dick?’

Ben snorted, and gave Richie a solid pat on the back. ‘So… you’re staying?’

Richie smiled and nodded. He guessed it wouldn’t hurt to stay a couple more days. Unless of course, in those couple of days, he gets killed by It. He shuddered and shook off the thought. Ben grinned and grabbed a hold of Richie’s bags, flexing his muscles in the process. And by God, were they huge. Richie’s eyes widened. Since when had Haystack become… all that?

‘I’ll take this back up to your room for you, if you wanna pour us a couple drinks? Pretty sure the entire hotel’s staff are either dead, or have abandoned their posts. Either way, drinks are on the house.’ Ben determined.

‘Okay. But after that, I’m having a shower. I smell worse than Derry’s grey water.’


End file.
